


I'd take care of you

by catmanu



Series: ivantoine one-shots [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, No angst here, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, a little deviation from the plot of the Ivantoine Saga, references to unpublished fics whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 05:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21453109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu
Summary: After breaking the news of his injury to Dalić and the team, Ivan felt lost. All he could think about was how he was sitting around in a hotel room in Zagreb instead of preparing for the match, out there on the pitch against Slovakia with half of Croatia screaming in his ears.After everything going on in Barcelona, this was all he’d wanted, and now…Who could he call? Why was he pretending he didn’t know who he wanted to call?
Relationships: Antoine Griezmann/Ivan Rakitić
Series: ivantoine one-shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580806
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	I'd take care of you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The heat of it all](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412831) by [catmanu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu). 

> An alternate take on Ivan dealing with his injury, for all you Ivan multishippers out there.

After breaking the news of his injury to Dalić and the team, Ivan felt lost. All he could think about was how he was sitting around in a hotel room in Zagreb instead of preparing for the match, out there on the pitch against Slovakia with half of Croatia screaming in his ears.  
  
After everything going on in Barcelona, this was all he’d wanted, and now…  
  
Who could he call? Why was he pretending he didn’t know who he wanted to call? He picked up his phone and headed for his WhatsApp chat with “Antoine Griezmann.” So formal.  
  
_Hey uh no homo but can I call you?_  
  
Antoine was probably busy right now, already practicing out on the pitch up in France. He sighed, feeling an annoying heaviness in his chest at the thought of Antoine doing what he wished he were doing.  
  
But maybe not. His phone lit up.  
  
_Yeah but only if its homo dude_  
  
_Okay I deserved that_  
  
_You deserve a lot of things :p and yeah go ahead and call me_  
  
Antoine picked up on the second ring and just the sound of his voice made Ivan forget about half of his bad mood. God, he was such a mess. Wasn’t he too old to be a mess?  
  
“I can’t believe you said _no homo_,” Antoine said as a greeting. “Like, really? You’ve sucked my dick real good. I’ve sucked y—”  
  
“I really hope Deschamps hasn’t bugged your rooms,” Ivan sighed.  
  
Antoine giggled. “He wouldn’t care, long as my dick-sucking doesn’t make me late for practice. He loves me.”  
  
“Wow…your coach loves you? I used to know what that was like.” Ivan always tried hard not to feel sorry for himself. Usually he managed, but once it started, it was hard to stop. Luka always gave him perspective, but _he_ was where Ivan _should_—  
  
“Forget about Ernesto,” Antoine advised. “Dalić’s probably crying about you right now.”  
  
“He’s not a crier.”  
  
“Deep down inside I bet he is,” Antoine said. “But yeah…it really sucks that you can’t play.”  
  
“Yeah. I’m not going to say it on instagram or whatever, but…it really fucking sucks. I’m miserable.”  
  
“I get it. I love getting to play for France. There’s something real good about it, you know? Like, making everyone in your country happy. I don’t know.”  
  
Ivan felt something warm spreading through him. “I, um. I kind of miss you.”  
  
“Try that again without the _kind of._” How did Antoine manage to smirk through the fucking phone?  
  
“No way. Baby steps.”  
  
“Okay, fair,” Antoine said. “Uh…you’re taking care of your injury, right?”  
  
“Why are you so concerned?” Ivan asked. “And yeah, I’m icing it right now. Netflix and chill.”  
  
“Mmmmm,” Antoine said. He sounded relaxed. Ivan imagined him sprawled out on his bed, his curls snaking all over the blanket. Maybe he was in his underwear. Just his underwear. Lying on the bed, on his stomach. Wiggling a bit. Ivan swallowed. There were parts of him that had definitely forgotten about his injury. “Too bad I can’t be there, I’d help you do some stretches and stuff.”  
  
“Oh? Are you my physio now?”  
  
“If you want. I’d take care of you. I’d rub your feet and stuff, rub your legs, rub—“ Suddenly his voice was softer, breathier. “I’d rub your dick, daddy. Make you feel good.”  
  
“I d-I didn’t know you wanted to do this on the phone,” Ivan said.  
  
Antoine ignored him. “I’d—I’d wrap my fingers around your cock and I’d start to jerk you off…And I’d stare at you because you have such a good face. You’re so pretty, daddy, you’re so hot and—I just wanna cheer you up.”  
  
“Antoine. Are you—are you touching yourself?”  
  
“Yeah. Sort of.”  
  
_“Sort of?”_  
  
“Yeah, I’m kind of. Um. Lying on my bed and…pretending I’m rubbing on your leg.”  
  
“Good, baby,” Ivan said. The image of Antoine _humping his bed_ because of him was one he’d never forget. “But I wouldn’t want that. I’d want you in my lap so you could help me get off.” He slid his palm lightly over the tent that was slowly appearing in his sweatpants—okay, maybe not so slowly—and gave himself a little squeeze.  
  
“Yeah? You’d want me to rub my dick on yours?”  
  
“Uh-huh. And then in that position it would be easy to grab your butt, squeeze it, play with it, maybe I’d stick my finger in—"  
  
“Daddy, _daddy!_” Antoine took a shaky breath and then whispered “_awww, fuck._” Ivan heard a muffled knocking sound on the other end. “Dude, Clement, fuck _off,_ I’m _busy_ right now.”  
  
Ivan traced the outline of his dick with his finger. He would _not_ jerk off to Antoine on the phone. Definitely not.  
  
“Yeah, Fortnite counts as busy. Come back_ later_, dude.” Antoine sighed. “Ugh, sorry ‘bout that. No one gets that I need _alone time._”  
  
“Forget Clement,” Ivan said. “Keep taking care of me.”  
  
“You’d put your finger inside me, daddy?”  
  
“Yeah,” Ivan said, without hesitation. “All the way. I'd make you scream.”  
  
Antoine moaned. “I want more than one, daddy, _please._”  
  
“Wow, okay, more than one then." Ivan thought. His face felt hot. Doing this over the phone was so cheesy. He wasn't exactly a poet or anything. But his dick didn't care. "And...I'd put you on all fours to do it. So I could smack your ass and watch it move. Cause it's so fucking perfect."

"Just be gentle," Antoine said.

Ivan snorted. "Like _you _get to decide how gentle I am with you? That's my decision."

He hadn't planned on saying this, but he was glad he did; Antoine's voice sounded different when he spoke next. Thicker, full of _something. _"People are usually...gentle with me, daddy," he said.

"Well," Ivan said, thinking of how rough he'd seen Antoine being with himself, "maybe I wouldn't be. Maybe I'd leave big red marks all over your ass...handprints maybe...right before practice and everyone would see and they'd _know _you belonged to someone, and they'd have to keep wondering who..." _Belonged to?_ His face was even hotter now. Why was he saying all this stuff?

Antoine breathed heavily and Ivan thought he could hear the mattress squeaking a little. "You want me to _b-bel—"_

"I was just saying," Ivan said quickly. "I didn't mean—They'd just know that little Antoine Griezmann likes it really rough."

"I—"

"So little and pretty and bouncy and sweet," Ivan continued, thanking God that the moment had passed, "and yet when daddy's not gentle with him...he just wants _more_..."

“_Daddy,_ I’m gonna c—" Antoine gasped a squeaky gasp and then he was panting, letting out little strangled _oh_s. It sounded like he’d dropped his phone. Ivan thought about what his perfect lips must look like as they parted to moan. He took himself in his fist. Doing this along with Antoine felt embarrassing, but he had to get rid of his hard-on before medical showed up. That was not a conversation he ever wanted to have.  
  
“Aw, man,” Antoine said, interrupting his thoughts. “These are gonna have to go in the laundry pile…”  
  
“Can I see? Send me a picture, I want to see what I made you do.”  
  
The photo came in right away. Antoine was wearing white briefs with roses on them and a big wet patch on the front. Ivan licked his lips and scratched his nose and saved the photo.  
  
“That looks nice, Antoine, that looks really nice.”  
  
“Mmmm. I’m so relaxed now. Could use a nap.”  
  
“Really? I thought you were going to take care of me. Now I’m out of the Slovakia game _and_ I have to jerk off all by myself?”  
  
“Sucks to be you, Ivan,” Antoine giggled. “Well, the jerking off part. I _would_ take care of you, if I was there.”  
  
Ivan tried to get comfortable. “Is your, um...is your dick all soft yet?”  
  
“Getting there.”  
  
“Send me a picture of it to help me out, it’s cute when it’s like that,” Ivan said, and his phone vibrated as Antoine instantly did as he was told.  
  
Then Antoine sent another, unexpected one: a photo of his face, his cheeks a little pink, his lips wet and parted, and his curls extra wild. It was sinful how beautiful and destroyed he looked after he’d come, it was...filthy. Ivan took a sharp breath and Antoine laughed, soft and low.  
  
“I guess you just saw my face.”  
  
“Mmmhmm.”  
  
Ivan pictured Antoine stretching lazily on his bed; he heard that slow pleasure in Antoine's voice as he asked “What are you doing now, huh?”  
  
Ivan stopped to spit into his own hand for a little help, half-imagining it was Antoine doing this to him. “Guess.”  
  
“I don’t have to guess. I can can tell from how you sound...”  
  
He might have been fucked for the Slovakia game, Ivan thought as he sped his fist up and bit his lip and curled his toes, and Antoine might have been all the way in France, but right now he felt pretty well-taken care of anyway.


End file.
